


New Friends and Tangled Traditions

by phoenixyfriend



Category: Marvel (Comics), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Božić, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 03:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13262676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixyfriend/pseuds/phoenixyfriend
Summary: Read the Author's Notes before reading the fic in full. TRUST ME. READ THEM.---Kate hasn't been on good terms with her father since he put out a hit on her, and it's not safe to see her sister. With her own holiday fast approaching, and New Year's and her birthday already behind her, she's... not exactly in the best mood.Billy may have an idea of his own, though.





	New Friends and Tangled Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> The first note: If you are very invested in the headcanon that Wanda and Pietro are practicing Jews, this is probably not the fic for you. I explain in-text why I'm not as big of a fan as I used to be of the headcanon (I once cried on a train because someone tried to argue with me back when I was really invested), but it mostly comes down to their tumultuous relationship with Erik and their upbringing in Transia. I'll add more details in the end notes.
> 
> I will preface this by saying that I've been putting off writing and posting this story for... four years, I think. It addresses, through Kate's perspectives, a limited number of the many, many issues I have with the holiday season in the USA. I'm shaking even as I write this, partly because this means a lot to me, and partly because I'm terrified of posting it. That terror stems from the worry that I will hurt people by writing Wanda and Pietro as I have in this story, and partly from the outright fear that I will do something ignorant in regards to their background as Rroma characters. Recently, the latter has been the main factor in why I've considered not posting this. Again, the reasoning will be explained in the end notes, along with other things.
> 
> If you are Rroma and have an issue with my writing this as I have, please tell me. If it's a minor thing, I'll edit it with your input, and if the concept as a whole is a problem... I am willing to delete it. The things I address through Kate in this fic are important to me, but making sure I don't perpetuate the problems that a marginalized population has is more important. I explain my reasoning in the end notes, as well as my causes for concern, but I know there's a chance I've done a lot of things wrong. I'll accept that and do what I can to fix that if it happens, but until then... enjoy?

Kate closed her eyes and breathed in, trying to ignore the heavy pounding at the base of her skull and the heat on her lower lids. She tried to ignore the trembling in her wrists and the tightness high in her cheeks. She tried to ignore the lump in her throat and the twisting in her stomach.

She tried to ignore the ringing phone beside her.

A light frisson of static passed over her left side, not electricity, but magic. Kate opened her eyes and looked over to see Billy fade into existence.

“Well... you look terrible,” he said.

“Thanks,” Kate managed to choke out, and pretended not to see the way he looked past her at the phone that sat on the brick wall with her.

He reached over and rejected the call, then picked it up and set it to silent.

It took a few long moments for either of them to say anything.

“Loki called,” Billy told her. “Said you were down in the dumps and needed someone.”

“Knows that with their shiny new Sorcerer Supreme powers, do they?”

“Well, they weren’t wrong,” Billy said, shifting until his shoulder pressed up against hers in an attempt at comfort. “What’s up?”

Kate bit her lip as she juggled the words in her brain, slotting words into feelings until something that made sense but didn’t get into the many, many details worked its way out of her mouth. “Just family stuff making the holidays suck.”

“Talk to me.”

And just like that, Billy rendered her efforts to keep quiet null and void.

“I’m missing Božić,” Kate admitted. “I mean, the holidays are usually weird for me anyway, but... this is the first year I won’t be seeing my family for it. And I don’t care about not seeing my dad, I _don’t_ , and people usually involve me in more general holiday stuff, and New Year’s is still a thing, but...”

“Your sister?” Billy guessed.

“I _can’t_ go see her,” Kate said, burying her face in her hands, then dragging her fingers down her face until she could rest her chin on the heels of her palms. “My dad is a full-blown villain now. If I see her, if he thinks I _told_ her anything, he’s going to... I don’t know. He might not even do anything. He might kidnap her to do to her whatever Masque did to him. I just... I can’t risk it. Susan is all I have left and I just _can’t_.”

Billy put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, hand coming up to press her head close to his as Kate felt her eyes burn with the tears she refused to shed.

“So... walk me through what you _do_ have,” Billy said, rubbing at her back. “What did you do for the December holidays?”

“Well, you invited me and the team over to your and Teddy’s apartment for Hanukkah,” Kate recited, trying to focus on the question, see if there were... details that needed to happen.. “And I spent the Gregorian calendar Christmas, the _American_ Christmas, with Clint and some of that circle. Deadpool was there. Also, my birthday.”

“New Year’s?”

“Party out in Malibu, baby,” Kate forced out a laugh, and Billy smiled weakly back at her like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“So... decent holiday for everything except... the thing that matters most,” Billy summarized. “Still bitter about the whole... ‘American Christmas’ thing?”

“Have been since I was old enough to understand how much cultural differences fucked me over mentally,” Kate mumbled.

“I feel you,” Billy said. “Though at least I never had... your confusion.”

“I have such mixed feelings about Christmas movies,” Kate huffed out.

“Right,” Billy said, patting her back. “I have an idea. Give me a few minutes?”

“...sure.”

Billy disappeared.

o.o.o.o.o

Kate felt the magic before she saw the red glow. She’d gotten sensitive to magic over the time she’d spent with Billy and other magical heroes over the years, and she knew this magic pretty well. Not as well as Billy or Loki’s, but she could recognize it.

The sound of thick heels and shifting leather only confirmed it.

“Hello, Kate.”

Kate tilted head and tried to give Wanda a smile. “Hey.”

Wanda took a seat next to her on the brick wall, resting her hands on her crossed knees, waiting.

“So... Billy?” Kate asked.

“He told me about what was going on,” Wanda told her.

“Why?”

Wanda considered that for a moment. “How much do you know about my approach to religion, Kate?”

“Not much,” Kate admitted. “I always kinda assumed you were Wiccan, or Jewish.”

“Because of Magneto.”

“Well... yeah,” Kate looked away and ducked her head. “It was pretty public that you were his kids, and since Billy’s also Jewish...”

“It’s not a conclusion that I don’t understand, but it’s not actually correct,” Wanda said.

“Is it one that bothers you?”

“Not often,” Wanda said. “Like I said, I understand it, and my own feelings about religion are convoluted enough that someone else’s assumptions don’t bother me much, beyond...”

“Beyond what?”

“Beyond the fact that it implies Pietro and I may have converted because of Erik, even after all he did to us,” Wanda finished. “It’s an assumption that, often unknowingly, erases both our upbringing as Rroma and our history with Erik as... as abuse victims, really. He treated us poorly when we were young enough to trust him, even before we believed him to be our father, and manipulated us to his own ends. We never even took his name, as we did The Whizzer’s when we believed him to be our father. We were hardly about to do more. I’ve... I’ve looked into it more, mostly for Billy’s sake, but there’s a disconnect for me. I imagine it would be even harder for Pietro; Erik was harder on him, and he doesn’t really know Billy as I do, so he doesn’t have that other tie.”

When Kate looked at her, Wanda was looking out and away at the beach skyline. “My brother and I grew up in Transia, between Romania and Serbia. We were raised Rroma. It is what we are, down to our bones, both ethnically and culturally. In regards to religion... it’s complicated. Over the centuries, most Rroma have converted to the predominant religions of whichever area they settled in, due to... well, due to anti-Rroma oppression.”

“Makes sense, given what I know of European history,” Kate said.

Wanda shot her a quick, sad smile. “Yes. The levels of devoutness are variable, but it’s there. In the case of Transia, the most predominant were Islam and Christian Orthodox. My community was one of the ones that had converted to Christian Orthodoxy, with a specifically Serbian church being the one we had visited.”

“... _oh.”_

“Whether or not we believed was up for debate, and I’ve certainly developed a much stronger attachment to Wicca and other magical systems of belief since I studied under Agatha Harkness, and my feelings were always rather complicated due to the fact that my people only followed this religion because they had converted so long ago for their own safety,” Wanda said, and then paused. Kate held her breath and waited.

“But there were traditions we picked up that I still enjoy, no matter how complicated my feelings are,” Wanda finished, and smiled at Kate, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as Billy had a half hour earlier. “I have trouble with belief systems I do not have proof of these days, after all my experience with the witch’s paths and such, but the traditions and culture remain. Pietro and I will be having a dinner on January 7th, if there aren’t any superheroics getting in the way. Luna will also most likely be there.”

“I’d like that,” Kate said.

o.o.o.o.o

“So, Billy said you have ‘issues’ with Christmas in America,” Luna said, with all the tact of a child her age.

“Uh, yeah,” Kate said. “I do.”

“What kind?”

Kate mulled that over again, fiddling with the sleeve of her sweater. “It’s... my mom was Serbian-American. She was born there, raised here. My dad didn’t have any strong feelings about religion, but my mom had them about culture, so she raised me and Susan with what she could remember of Serbian culture, went to some of her parents’ friends when she couldn’t remember stuff, took us to church when she could...”

Kate bit her lip. “The church burned down a year and a half ago. I’d already cut off from my dad and couldn’t donate much to reconstruction, and there aren’t a whole lot of Serbian cultural centers, even in New York City, now that the church is gone. Out in Malibu, I don’t even have the vague acquaintances of my mom’s that I had in New York. So... I’ve got a bunch of issues just in that, but most of it is just childhood stuff. Božić is basically Christmas, and then you get told that Santa visits all the good kids on Christmas in a single night, and every song and movie and freaking _commercial_ you see tells you it’s on December 25th, and nobody wants to explain the details so the only message you get when Santa _doesn’t_ come the night everyone talks about is that you aren’t good enough, aren’t important enough, aren’t—”

She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “There was a lot of other stuff, too, but basically, the Christmas-centric media in the US confused me as a kid in ways that gave me a lasting bitterness, and the sheer _presence_ of it irritates me as an adult when I’m not... actively choosing to participate in it.”

“Only then?” Luna asked.

“Hey, I like Christmas movies and songs. Some of them are great. Just... not when I’m getting too much all at once, you know?” Kate shrugged. “So, uh, did you guys have a... frick, what’s the word...”

“Položajnik?” Pietro asked, appearing next to Luna and picking her up.

“Yeah,” Kate said, willing away the flush that rose in her cheeks. It wasn’t her fault she’d forgotten the word, she told herself. She didn’t need it often, and she hadn’t had much chance to share the holidays with anyone who knew the language better than she and her sister did and could remind them, not in recent years.

“Aunt Lorna came by,” Luna told her. “Dad and I were already sleeping over, since Aunt Wanda set up the piju piju last night while Dad took pictures, so Lorna was the first one at the door. What about you?”

“One of my neighbors in Malibu stopped by,” Kate said, eyeing a chair nearby. Would it be rude to sit down right now? She didn’t know Wanda or Pietro that well, and didn’t know Luna at all, but this was way more casual than the dinners her dad had taken her to when she was younger, but still nowhere near as casual as just hanging out with her team, while—

“Relax,” Wanda said, a hand pressing lightly high up against Kate’s back. “Shall we head to the dining room?”

“Uh, sure,” Kate muttered. “I brought some rakija? It felt more... appropriate than wine.”

Wanda met her eyes and smiled, taking the tall bag that held the bottle and carrying it as she led Kate to the dining room, Luna and Pietro already having sped ahead. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Not Luna, of course, and I don’t drink anymore, but you and Pietro will enjoy it, and I’m sure I can find a purpose for it at some point.”

Kate took the seat across from Luna, with Wanda sitting at the head of the table and Pietro to the side. The česnica already sat in the middle of the table, a Russian salad off to the side, and foods Kate didn’t even recognize sitting elsewhere on the table.

(Kate had never, not once, met a Russian person who actually recognized the concoction she’d grown up calling ‘ruska salata.’ At some point, the meal had gained the name, despite having no apparent home in Russia in the first place.)

“So how do you usually do this part?” Luna asked, looking directly at Kate.

“I... we’d just stand,” Kate managed to say, scrambling to figure out how to say something she hadn’t thought of in so long. “And each hold part of the česnica, and then turn it between us three times until we’d kind of randomized it, and break it off so we each had a section, and then... hope we got the coin so we’d be the one to have good luck for the next year?”

“Aunt Wanda does the coin, too,” Luna told her. “And I think that’s how we’ve been doing it?”

“It is,” Pietro confirmed, a little gruffly. “Good thing, too. More conflicting traditions than necessary would just make things awkward.”

“ _Dad_.”

Kate hid a smile behind her hand, met Wanda’s eyes, and then stopped trying to hide said smile when she saw the smile on Wanda’s own face.

“Let’s start,” Wanda said.

(Luna got the coin, that year.)

(Kate didn’t mind. She wasn’t with Susan, wasn’t with her mother, wasn’t with the people who mattered most... but someone had opened their home to her on a night like this, and she needed that.)

**Author's Note:**

> Minor notes:  
> The church fire is real. The St. Sava Cathedral burned down on the Orthodox Easter in 2016. While authorities declared that it was due to candles not being properly put out, some elements point to arson. There's been little headway in rebuilding, because few people outside the Serbian-American community in New York care, honestly, and there's some suspicion of someone handling what little we've fund-raised improperly.  
> Božić - the Serbian name for Christmas.  
> Piju piju - a children's tradition. Straw or shredded paper is set under the kitchen table, and the mother walks around the table with the children following her, saying "piju piju" (pee-yu), the sound a chicken makes. After several rounds, she begins tossing candy and small change from a bowl she's carrying to land under the table, and the children go to collect it. It's something I enjoyed a lot as a small child, though a conversation with a Serbian-Canadian friend indicated that not all families do this.  
> Rakija - the most popular alcoholic drink in Serbia and a number of other Balkan countries. It's rather strong, and smells even stronger.  
> Česnica - a special bread baked on Božić. It's round and the dough is in layers inside, and sometimes the dough is shaped into patterns on top. A coin is baked inside, and whoever gets the coin when the bread is broken has good luck for the next year.
> 
> Major notes:  
> I explained why I no longer headcanon the Maximoff twins as practicing Jews in the text, for the most part. Most of the headcanon stems from their relation to Erik, and while they are ethnically Jews if we consider that element canon (I love that backstory, but I also like Natalya, so... yeah), I do not imagine they would convert due to their relation to him. As for being raised Jewish...  
> Transia is located between Romania and Serbia, though the specifics vary from comic to comic. Most Rroma of the regions are either Christian Orthodox (especially in Serbia) or Muslim (due to tax incentives leveled by the Ottoman Empire over the five centuries they were in control). Statistically, it's more likely for them to be Muslim, and canon indicates that they probably don't have any strong belief in an Abrahamic religion at all (most of what Wanda says and does indicates her belief systems lies primarily in witchcraft). I would say that Magda's location being where it was in the Scarlet Witch comics indicates that she and Django had stronger ties to the Rroma in Serbia than previous comics indicated, though, which skews those stats back.  
> However, there are... there just aren't any Christian Orthodox characters in Marvel. There's the evil, baby-selling priest from the Scarlet Witch comics I just referenced. There's Elektra's dead dad in the Daredevil movie that people pretend didn't happen, and even that's mostly just implied by the funeral proceedings. There's an AU version of Beast that's on panel for all of... one page? If that?  
> So there weren't really any canon characters I could have used for this.  
> And I can't actually connect with Catholic or Protestant characters. That probably sounds weird to a lot of people, because it's all Christianity, right? But I don't feel a sense of community there. I grew up in New York, and religion was never religion so much as CULTURE for me. The church was where we went to meet other Serbs, and moving to Colorado cut us off from so much of what we had access to, in terms of Serbian-American culture. Part of that is just because New York had more Serbs in general, but... for me, being Orthodox was always tied directly to being Not-Properly-American. To being an immigrant. To being Serbian, specifically, but to being Other, first and foremost. It was all the stuff Kate said, about how it's not quite the same, but not different enough that you can explain it to other people easily (or understand it yourself, if you're young enough). It's alienating in its own way, and I've been struggling with how to put these feelings into words for... most of my life. Since I started school, really, and started interacting with American kids on the regular.
> 
> I'm going to end this by saying that the reason I worried so much about posting this is that I don't know how realistic it is for Pietro and Wanda to have similar traditions to non-Rroma from the area. I used my own patchwork traditions as a basis, twisted by crossing the ocean and losing so much contact, but every time I wrote another one I thought "Is this okay? Would they do this, or would they reject the traditions from countries that have oppressed Rroma for so long?" I don't know how much of me projecting onto them because they're from my part of the world is negated by the fact that they are Rroma, and oppressed group from that region, and where and when I should stop.  
> So if you're Rroma, and think I fucked up majorly by writing this... tell me. I'll delete it. I don't want to be that asshole.


End file.
